Rules and Revelations
by FotoBridgeT2
Summary: The ladies of the lab go out on a GIRLS night OUT run and stumble upon a body. Case soon evolves into the search for a seriel killer. GSR, SofiaNick, case file.


RULES AND REVELATIONS

(TIME approximately eleven o'clock pm. SET shortly after Leapin' Lizards)

"What the hell happened here?"

Catherine turned as Ecklie shouted behind her. "Calm down, Conrad. Just a little barroom brawl."

"Cath? Where's Sara?" Grissom, Nick, and Ecklie were rushing towards Catherine's small group. Grissom with a strange look of fear and concern on his face and a similar expression on Nick's.

"Being treated. Along with Sofia," Cath answered, shivering in the rapidly cooling night air. "Nothing major; just cuts and bruises."

Grissom spun on his heels and hurried towards the flashing lights of the two ambulances. Once there, he saw Sofia and Sara sitting on one gurney while two young paramedics applied antiseptic and band-aids.

"Sara!" Grissom said, rushing to the gurney, elbowing the EMT aside. "Honey, are you all right?"

Sofia looked at him curiously, puzzled at his familiar behavior and his concern. Sara was just a little scuffed up, nothing major, but the supervisor was acting like a concerned—lover.

"Griss, I'm fine, calm down." Sara grabbed the hand caressing her cheek and squeezing it reassuringly. "People are watching."

At that comment Sofia's brows rose and she found herself looking at her own secret as he stood between Brass and Catherine. The handsome Texan must have felt her gaze for he looked at her and smiled that dimpled grin of his, a private look just for her.

_Apparently, she and Nick weren't the only ones involved in a clandestine affair. _Good for Grissom.

Grissom nodded, straightening his shoulders. It wouldn't do for Ecklie to find out about him and Sara like this. "Are you two ok?"

"Minor bruising. Busted lip." Sofia told him, hopping down from the gurney as Grissom assisted Sara.

"But what happened?"

"Sara and Catherine and I were coming out of the ladies' room and four men came up to us, separately. We'd had words with them earlier. When they saw each other they got a little pissy. Next thing we know they're were swinging, and Sara was stuck in the middle."

"And how did you two get knocked around?" Jim asked, coming around and putting a hand on Sofia's back.

"We just tried to get back to our table," Catherine said, joining the group. Warrick and Greg ran up, carrying their kits. "They had surrounded us."

Grissom took a closer look at the members of his team, noting the swelling and scrapes covering the women, Sara's busted lip and scraped cheek, Sofia's swollen nose, and Catherine's black eye. "So who won?"

"We did, of course." Sara raised a brow at the older man, a smirk turning up one side of her mouth. "Really no other option."

She nodded at another group of men, around a dozen, surrounded by uniformed officers. Two stood in the center, glaring at them. "After all—they assaulted members of the LVPD. Dumbasses."

"So Sidle, Curtis, what exactly triggered this brawl?" Ecklie shouldered his way in between Catherine and Nick. "And what were you all doing here tonight anyway?"

Sara, Sofia, and Catherine exchanged a look. How to explain?

"Girls' night out, Conrad." Catherine began, "And the gentlemen in question must have had an issue with rejection. They'd apparently decided Sara and Sofia were going home with each of them. We see that stupidity all the time."

"So members of the LVPD crime lab often go cruising the bars on their time off?" Ecklie sneered, running his eyes over the women. Catherine was now less than elegant, disheveled, dressed in a stark black cocktail dress. Sara was filthy, attesting to the time she'd spent brawling with inebriated idiots. Her little red number was torn on one shoulder strap and if it weren't for her hand holding it in place, half her chest would be exposed.

Grissom shrugged out of his LVPD windbreaker and dropped it over her shoulders. She slipped her arms in it, and tried to refrain from obviously inhaling his scent.

Sofia had faired much worse, wardrobe-wise. Her blue mini skirt and tank top were ripped and bloody and covered in spilt beer.

The beer was the reason they'd been on that side of the club in the first place. Some asshole had spilled half a bottle of Miller light down Sofia's chest, his own impromptu wet t-shirt contest. Catherine and Sara accompanied her to clean up a bit, and they'd all been stopped on their way back to the table where Wendy, Mandy, Jacquie and Judy waited. Sofia shivered again, the wet shirt and the dropping temperatures turning her to a block of ice.

Nick swore, and removed his own jacket. He wrapped Sofia in it as quickly as possible.

"What exact _words _did you have with them?" Ecklie demanded to know.

"They were rude and obnoxious. Insisting we sit with them." Sara spoke, glaring at Ecklie. They'd had issues in the past, and she made no bones about hating the man. "One of them had pulled me into his lap. We told them basically to get lost and never bother us again. That was the first two." She waved a hand toward two men standing between officers about fifty feet away.

"The other two were even worse," Sofia drew attention to herself, motioning to her shirt, now safely covered by Nicky's jacket. "One spilled beer down my shirt—deliberately—and were crude about the results."

"After that we decided to leave, but never made it back to the table. Apparently the four morons often fight over women," Catherine rolled her eyes, a funny sight since one was nearly swollen shut. She'd gotten in the way of someone's elbow. For all she knew it could have been Sara's—the taller brunette had let a few fists fly.

"So tell me, now, before the media or IAB thinks to get involved—how drunk were all of you?" Ecklie not-so-subtly glanced in Sara's direction, looking away only when the entomologist beside her stiffened and glared.

"None, you pompous ass," Catherine retorted, straightening ever so slightly and glaring the man down. "We are scheduled to work later tonight and drinking is against the rules on these little jaunts."

"_Rules? _You have rules for cruising?" Ecklie raised his own brows at that. "How often does this little event occur?"

"Every two months or so." Catherine answered. "And of course there are rules. Do you think we would be stupid enough to go out to a nightclub without some basic safety measures?"

"Right now, Willows, I'm not sure what to think of any of you. Grissom, this is in your hands. Deal with it." With that Ecklie stormed off, flailing his hands and obviously muttering to himself.

"Man—I do love upsetting that doorknob," Sara grinned carefully, not wanting to pull the stitches the paramedic had put in her lip.

"Mr. Grissom? I'm sorry to interrupt," Detective Mitchell said, shouldering in between Grissom and Sara. "But what about the body?"

"_Body? What body?" _

"The woman with a knife sticking out of her chest—that's why you're here, isn't it?"

(commercial break :P)

"Sara, you're going home. You're in no shape to work tonight. Cath—you go back to the lab, anything that comes in other than this tonight is your responsibility. Warrick, Nick, we'll work this." Grissom directed, ignoring Sara's protest for the moment.

"Grissom! I'm fine," Sara grabbed her supervisor's arm after everyone hurried away. "I don't need to go home, let me stay and help."

"Sara, you've been injured and you are a potential witness. I can't let you work this scene, you know that," Grissom was careful to refrain from touching her too familiarly. He leaned in just a little closer and whispered, "Just go on home, honey, and catch up on some rest."

"I'm fine. At least let me go back to the lab. I can work on cold cases."

"Just remember, you are not to leave the lab, nothing strenuous at all."

"Thanks, Gil," she whispered before hurrying after Catherine.

"Sara! Where's your shoes?" Grissom yelled after her.

"Lost'em inside. Don't worry, I've got spares in my locker!" She turned and waved, fluttering away. The corners of Grissom's mouth quirked as the jacket edges bounced against the silky red skirt.

"Ready?" Jim asked coming up behind Grissom. "She's ok, I take it?"

"Yes. Tried to get her to go home, but you know Sara." Grissom shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Not as well as you, my friend," Jim winked. He was a careful observer, he'd known of his friend's young obsession for several years. He'd just remained quiet about it.

"What's that supposed to mean, Jim?"

"Nothing. Just see the way that pretty lady looks at you—you finally wised up and looked back?"

"Quietly," Grissom couldn't lie, not to Jim, anyway. He trusted the detective to keep a secret.

"Thought as much, you two seem much more relaxed around each other. Anyone else know?"

"No. I think Ecklie suspects, but we've not confirmed it. He's made several comments over the last couple of months."

"He's probably just fishing. You know he resents you, and with Sara telling him off so many times…She's really lucky he's not fired her by now."

"With her solve rate he can't fire her easily. Not if he doesn't want the lab to suffer."

"That's right, second highest rate—right after you, correct?"

Grissom nodded as they entered the club, Liberty's Palace, and did a complete 360, taking in all the debris littering the floor. A new place, the Palace was a nice, relatively high-end club dedicated to educated professionals. Silver and black made the color scheme with hints of red to splash color among the sea of tables. Tables were overturned, chairs scattered across the floor.

Grissom sniffed the air, processing the mix of smells—perfume, cigarette smoke, alcohol, fried food, and other indefinable odors. A stage was set up in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by cameras. Each wall had overlarge projection screens that were currently flashing images of the officers and CSIs. "Jim? Get those tapes."

"Working on it." Jim said as Greg ambled up.

"The Palace's draw. They live-cast." Greg said, rocking on his heels. He vibrated with pent-up energy—always did.

"You come here, often, Greg?" Grissom asked.

"Some."

"What's with the AV equipment and the stage?" Jim asked, not having been in the club scene in years.

"Well. Only the hottest people are allowed on the stage to dance. The cameras pan the whole damn place and the image is broadcast on every wall. It's cool. People practically fight at the entrance to get the green day-glow bracelets. No bracelet, no dancing on stage."

"Catherine had a bracelet on." Jim put in, bending over the remains of a plate of nachos. He turned his nose up at the beer drenching the floor around the plate. "She get on stage?"

"Most definitely. In fact, I checked. All of our girls had bracelets." Greg grinned, handing Grissom a bindle. "I really wanna see those tapes."

"The victim also has a bracelet," Grissom remarked, pointing with his notebook at the cheap plastic encircling the woman's arm. "Bet she was on those tapes as well."

"Does this mean that Cath and Sara and Sofia might be witnesses?" Jim asked, "Won't look good to IAB."

"We don't know what happened yet. And I will handle IAB." Grissom nodded to David. "Time of death, David?"

"From liver temp approximately an hour to ninety minutes ago." The assistant coroner said. "Let me know when you are ready and I will wheel her out of here."

"So just before—or during—the little brawl." Greg said, snapping pictures of the body in situ. "We know it wasn't Cath, Sara, or Sofia. They were clear across the room. And otherwise occupied. So what about Wendy and the others? Where were they?"

"Wendy said they were at the first table on the stage. When fighting broke out Mandy yelled for everyone to get under the table." Nick said, having joined them. "Smart move. Get out of the way of any fighting."

"They were at table primo?" Greg whistled, rocking backwards again.

"That signifies what, Greg?" Grissom stood, stretching the kinks out of his knees.

"That special table is reserved for the hottest women in the club. Sit at that table and you are set for the night. Our girls were sitting there? Awesome!"

"That surprises you, Greggo? Of course _our girls _were at the hot table. Have you taken a good look at them?" Nick laughed, "Any one of them alone is awesome, put them all together in short tight dresses? Meltdown."

"Gentleman, back to the case, please. I doubt they'd appreciate you talking of them that way." Grissom spoke again, "You're lucky Sara didn't just hear you."

"You're right, Grissom. We're being jerks. And I'll be sure not to tell her that she's got the best legs on nightshift." Greg joked.

"The victim, Greg?" Grissom frowned. "How did she get the bracelet, and where do you think she was sitting?"

"Well, if you're not at that table, and you have a bracelet, you're most likely at one of those three tables over there." He motioned to the tables surrounding the one Wendy had indicated was theirs. Ten tables in all were located along the edge of the stage. "But odds were, if you have a bracelet, you're pretty much on your feet all night."

"Who decides who gets the bracelets?" Nick inspected the velvet ropes encircling the stage. "Is there some sort of ranking system?"

"Naw, man. Doorman decides. That's why there are usually people here real early. Want to get in before all the bracelets are gone."

"So what percentage of people are on that stage at any given time?" Grissom flipped his notebook to a clean page.

"Oh, I don't know. A quarter, maybe. Women mostly. Then it's the guys turn. They have to be invited up there. Then they're given bracelets. It's a hell of a fight to get up there, let me tell you."

"You made it up there yet, Greggo?" Nick laughed at the younger man.

"Once. Man it was hot up there. Surrounded by all those chicks, and they all dug me! Best night of my life."

"So if the vic was bracelet-clad she'd most likely have been on the stage, dancing?"

"If not dancing, then at least sitting at one of the tables. The only reasons to leave the stage once you're up there are leaving and restroom breaks." Greg followed Grissom up on the stage. "From here everything is video-taped."

"Warrick, you and Greg finish up here. Nick and I will start reviewing those tapes and start interviewing people." Grissom ordered.

"Sure thing, Griss, come on, boy."

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Grissom had plenty of questions for Sara—and Catherine—but first he wanted to see those tapes. "Archie, you started on the tapes from Liberty's Palace yet?"

"Sure did, haven't found anything probative just yet. Got some great blackmail shots for the lab though." The lab technician typed quickly, bringing up a four-view camera. "Saw Detective Curtis get shirted, saw Sara get hit on, more than once, you've got to check it out."

"This is a case, Archie. These tapes are evidence. Remember that." Grissom suppressed the urge to growl.

"Yes sir. Here's where the brawl starts. Initial contact. Man number one spills beer down Curtis's shirt. Watch. Then Man number two speaks to Sara, reaches for her hand. Turned down flat. Not too happy about that. Few moments later, Sara, Catherine and Detective Curtis leave the stage, heading to the ladies' room—probably to deal with Curtis's blouse. They exit ten minutes later. Then men number 3 and 4 approach. Man number three pulls Sara into his lap. Catherine is approached by man number five, number four laughs when Sara elbows number three. Four reaches for Sara, only to run into...uh... Sofia's foot. Falls flat on his face. Meanwhile man number two and his friend number one were apparently waiting outside the ladies' room. Number two grabs Sara's arm, pulls her out of number three's lap. She tries to break away here, while number one grabs Sofia from behind. Sara meanwhile is stuck between numbers four and two. Catherine extracts herself from number five—no problems there, he seems to take the hint—and helps Sofia. They pull back towards the ladies' room, but Sara wasn't so lucky."

"What do you mean?" Grissom frowned at the screen, clenching his hands on the file he held.

"Let me enhance." Archie pecked a few keys and a close up image filled the screen. Grissom could see Sara's lips as the formed the words _no way in hell._ Typical Sara, fiery and bold. "Here is where the first punch occurs. Man number three punches number two. Two pushes back. Elbow catches bystander. Bystander swings. Number one and four join in. And now Sara's surrounded. Someone—I think it is man number two, falls into Sara, taking her to the floor. After that, we lose sight of her for several moments."

"Where?" Grissom's heart raced, though he knew she was fine, safe, just a few doors down the hallway.

"She resurfaces here. I can't help but think she was crawling through the brawl." Archie pointed at the screen again. "She's closer to Catherine and Detective Curtis, here."

Grissom watched as Sofia and Catherine each grabbed one of Sara's arms, pulling her to her feet. Catherine was obviously shouting something to the younger women but Grissom couldn't get an accurate read of their lips to know what was said. A man fell into the trio, knocking Sara back down, and she took Sofia with her. Catherine went to pull them up, when Sara shoved a man out of their way. Sara's elbow caught Catherine in the right eye. By this time Sofia was crawling across the floor, near the stage steps. Catherine and Sara were right behind her, and eventually they made it behind an overturned table, where they waited until the officers responded.

"So any clear pictures of men one through four? They are all being charged with assault, drunken disorderly, assaulting members of the LVPD, and anything else we can prove. I want clear, identifiable pictures before I start interviews." Grissom was going to nail the stupid son of bitches. "Keep looking. We need to start mapping the victim's movements."

"Will do, boss. Though I haven't seen her on this tape yet. But there were at least a dozen tapes taken tonight." Archie turned back to the screens.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

"Sara?" Grissom rapped lightly on the conference room door. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine, Griss. I am a little tired, a little sore. But I'll be fine. Do you need something?" Sara closed the file, laying it before her as he settled into a chair beside her, thigh resting against hers.

"Always, dear." He murmured, not looking at her.

"Pervert," she whispered, looking down at her notepad.

"Um. Anyway, how's the case?" She shifted the pictures in front of her.

"Good, I have a few questions though." Grissom grabbed her hand, running his fingers up to the bracelet encircling her wrist. "Why haven't you taken this off?"

"Oh. Forgot. I am so used to wearing a watch, I just didn't notice." Sara moved to unhook the plastic band. She handed it to him, and he carefully bindled it. "Anything else?"

"Yes. What did those men say to you?"

"Is this Grissom the CSI or Grissom the lover asking?" She smiled at him, flashing the gap between her teeth.

"The CSI now, the lover tonight," Grissom nudged her shoulder with his.

"They seemed to believe that I wanted to go home with them, can you imagine?"

"In that dress you were wearing, I'm surprised more men didn't approach you."

"So you liked it then?"

"I liked it even more the last time you wore it."

"Grissom. Don't you think that I had better speak to Warrick or Nick, instead of you. I mean if word got out, it could jeopardize the integrity of the investigation." Sara straightened, remembering where they were.

"Probably. Guess it is Grissom the lover asking." He raised his eyebrows and quirked his lips. "He is appearing with all the more frequency around here lately."

"So I've noticed. Calling me dear in the morgue, talking about fantasies at the conference table."

"Listen, why don't you go home? Change clothes, take a hot bath, rest. I'll join you in a few hours." Grissom urged, squeezing her fingers. It was one of the few physical signs of affection he would permit himself while at work. Touching her when no one was around. He knew it made her nervous though, so he tried to limit the number of times he did it.

He wanted her to get used to him, to his touching her wherever they were. He wasn't concerned with propriety in the lab. He'd worked in Las Vegas for nearly two decades and had the best solve rate in the lab, nearly the best in the country. And was followed in numbers by Sara. She had more solved cases than anyone else in the building—except Grissom. Would the powers-that-be really risk losing those statistics because they were caught in a physical relationship?

Oh, he knew there would be a big blow up, a scandal, rumors, looks, and accusations. But he was ready to face them--she wasn't. He knew what stock she put in her career, her intelligence, how hard she worked to get where she was and he didn't want her to jeopardize that until she was absolutely ready. He could wait. After all, hadn't she waited over six years for him to make the first move—wasn't it now his turn? He had to admit--he was forced to agree with her comment last night about not being convinced there was intelligent life on _this _planet. After all--wasn't _he _supposed to be an intelligent man? It had taken him this long to get this far, so what did that really say?

They were seeing each other. They dated at least once a week. Casual dinners that couldn't be misinterpreted if someone happened to see them out in public. She slept at his townhouse at least twice a week, and he at hers just as frequently. He could handle that without demanding she give him more. He had agreed to take it slow, that night after they'd found Nicky and pulled him from the plexi-glass coffin. He intended to honor that promise. Mustn't rush her, he didn't know how she'd act and wasn't ready to find out.

It was enough that he hadn't killed all her feelings for him over the years. He was a damned lucky man.

"I'm going to take a break in a few minutes. Catch a nap in the break room. Don't worry. Besides—I don't have a car, rode in with Catherine. I was kind of hoping my supervisor would be nice and give me a lift home?"

"It might be a hardship, but I think I can manage something." He rapped the table with the files in his hand before standing. "Take your nap at least. Promise? You look pale."

"I promise." Sara nodded, secretly thrilled at his gruff orders. Rarely had anyone expressed concern over her welfare and it was kind of nice.

After Grissom left the conference room Sara repacked the evidence box. She made her way down the hall to the break-room and stretched out on the couch. It smelled like old coffee and potato chips but she didn't mind. As soon as she rested her head on the arm she was out.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

"So Mr. James, tell us again what happened?" Jim drummed his fingers on the table, staring at the not quite sober blonde sitting in front of him.

"Don't really remember. Had some shots, checked out the chicks, so one I liked. Then some asshole shows up, tries to cut in, then everyone starts fighting." He paused a moment, looking at Jim and Grissom. "I could have got that bitch's number too. What a wasted night."

Grissom leaned forward then, "I suggested you not use that term in my presence again."

"Why?" Mr. James asked, looking at the older man, "What's it matter to you?"

"We're…acquainted with…the lady in question. Are quite fond of her actually." Jim explained, sending his friend a look.

"Oh, sorry." James looked away.

"So let me get this straight. You went to the bar, got _wasted, _hit on a woman, someone objected, and then _everyone _started hitting." Jim was obviously skeptical and he looked at Grissom. His friend sat, hands clenched, eyes watching the man before them. This was the man who had hit on Sara and followed her to the ladies' room. He'd been the one to knock Sara to the floor. No wonder Grissom was angry. For a moment Jim wondered if he should suggest the entomologist sit this particular interview out.

"Yeah. So what? What's this about? Did that chick complain about me?"

"You might say that. We have you on camera assaulting her and brawling. You're being charged with both those crimes. Oh, and did I forget to mention that the lady in question is affiliated with the LVPD, and that assault—it's on an officer."

"What the hell?" James said, "I didn't know that. I didn't assault her, if she told you that she's lying!" He slammed his fists down on the table and stood up.

Grissom rose to his feet to meet him. "Sit down. She didn't have to tell us anything—we have you on tape."

The man sat and Grissom towered over him, then pushed a photograph across the table. "One more question, this woman was found dead, lying almost center stage. You were on that stage last night. Did you see her? Speak to her?"

"No man. My attention was on the first table, and I don't think this chick was at that table. I was really _in _to that brunette, man. Can I go now?"

"Sorry, pal. You aren't going anywhere. You'll be arraigned in the morning. Officer Lewis, escort this man to holding." Jim laughed at the man's face. "Hey, assaulting a member of the LVPD is a serious crime, my man."

After the door closed Jim turned to his friend. "Thought you were going to lose it there, pal. You ok?"

"Have you seen the tape? He knocked her to the floor, Jim." Grissom stood and paced to the window. "Two stitches in her lip, and did you see her cheek? He's a big guy, he could have really hurt her."

"I know, and it's taken care of. They're in custody." Jim opened the door and Grissom walked through. "But you've got to keep your cool, for both your sakes."

"I know. I think I'll pass on the other three interviews."

"That's probably a good idea. I'll handle them."

"Thanks, Jim, I appreciate it."

"Anytime. Can't say I didn't want to see that jerk squirm myself."

COMMERCIAL BREAK

"Grissom!" Nick called, coming from the layout room.

"Yes, Nick. Got something for me?"

"Bar receipts. Tox on the vic came back positive for rum, water, and chocolate syrup. Only four customers purchased that particular drink. Two went to a woman on the stage, and the other two went to two women off stage. Our victim was wearing the bracelet, and was found knifed on stage so I am going to guess she is the one who signed this credit card receipt. Tara Dees."

"Good job, Nick. Anything else?"

"Just the fact that the bar keeps track of the number of drinks purchased for the women on stage by interested parties. Our girls had a total of fifty-six various beverages sent to their table—all refused, of course. The bar marks each order with a certain code. Table one—where Cath and crew were-followed by dress color and abbreviated hair color. So Cath was wearing black. So her code was 1-black-sb—for strawberry blond."

"And this signifies what?"

"I just find it interesting. Thirteen drinks were ordered for Sara and ten for Sofia. The rest were about evenly distributed amongst the rest of the girls."

"Really? How many slips went to our victim?" Grissom filed the thirteen drinks for Sara away in his brain, fighting the twinge it brought. Sara was a very attractive woman, and in that red dress, she was stunning. He understood why a man would try to get her attention.

"Two, plus the two drinks she herself ordered." Nick and Grissom turned the corner, coming to the break-room. "Made me wonder. From what Greggo said, women on stage knew they wouldn't have to buy their own drinks—she came to get plastered. Why else would she pay for two drinks so early in the night?"

"It might mean something. Good work. Twenty three drinks between Sara and Sofia? All turned down, that could potentially anger someone, wouldn't you think?"

"Yeah, boss. They were lucky." Nick's mouth twisted as he thought of the nearly transparent quality of Sofia's powder blue tank top. Soaked, it had stuck to her thinner than skin. She'd mostly likely have two black eyes from the broken nose. "They charging those assholes? Sofia's nose was broken, Griss."

"Of course they are charging them. I wouldn't have it any other way. Sara's lip had to be stitched. Catherine's got a black eye—from Sara's elbow. All counts as assaulting an officer."

"Good. Those s.o.b.'s should have known better." Nick walked over to the fridge, glancing at the sleeping woman on the break-room couch. "She ok? That lip looks nasty."

"She'll be fine. Tried to get her to go home but she refused." Grissom grabbed a blanket from the top of a cabinet and spread it over the CSI. "At least she's sleeping though."

"So you give her the night off, and she insists on staying. Stubborn woman." Nick said, getting a soda from the fridge.

"Yes. Spread the word that _no one _is to wake her up. She needs the break." Grissom pulled his lunch from the brown bag, and settled into the chair closest to the couch. It was all he would permit himself here, clandestinely watching her sleep, making sure she was all right. She must have felt his eyes, for she turned over on her side, facing him. It was her favorite position for sleeping, curled up into a fetal pose—most likely because she usually kicked off the covers and would get cold.

"Got it, boss." Nick answered, surprised at the command in the older man's voice. Yeah, Sara was scuffed up but on this job there had been more extensive injuries—and Grissom hadn't coddled them. Of course, Grissom had known Sara before she moved to Las Vegas, so maybe he felt a little more protective towards her.

After Nick left, Grissom opened the folder he'd brought with him, cross-referencing the information listed to that of the victim. Telephone lists showed that the victim had six numbers in common with other patrons of the club. Something worth looking into. Using highlighters he marked all common calls.

At a soft whimper he looked up, eyes landing on Sara. She moaned softly and he knew immediately what was happening. He stood hastily, moving closer, and crouching beside her. He didn't want the nightmares to lead to their normal conclusion—ending with her screaming and jerking awake.

"Sara? Wake up, honey." He nudged her shoulder gently, then more insistently when she didn't respond. "Sara! Wake up. You're having a nightmare."

"Grissom?" Catherine entered the break-room, pausing in the doorway upon seeing the nightshift supervisor kneeling in front of a sleeping CSI. "What's going on here?"

"She's having a nightmare, I think." Grissom stopped shaking Sara, turning to the woman in the door instead. "Do you mind giving her some privacy? She'll be embarrassed if she knows someone hears her."

"O-kay. But don't you think she'll be more embarrassed if _you're _the one to hear?"

"No. She's told me several times about having nightmares." He didn't add that he'd held her numerous times right after she'd wake.

"Ok, then I'm out of here for a few minutes." Catherine turned on her heels and exited the room.

"Sara, honey. You need to wake up, _now." _He lifted her slightly, shaking her gently until her eyes fluttered open and the quiet whimpering stopped.

"Griss? What? Do you need me?" She muttered, closing her eyes again. Sara always struggled to wake up. Grissom attributed it to the fact that she slept so few hours, and even those hours she was in near constant motion. It had taken him several weeks of sleeping with her to get used to her frequent movements.

"Honey, you were dreaming again. I didn't want you to get too loud and have to explain to people about your nightmares." He helped her sit up, keeping a cautious eye on the break-room door.

"I was? Thanks," she felt her lip, absently fingering the fresh stitches. Grissom caught her hand, noticing the trembling, and pulled it away from the threads.

"Don't pick at it. You don't want an infection to set in. Are you hurting?" He released her hand.

"A little," She rubbed her eyes before continuing. "How's the case going?"

"Nothing definitive yet. We're about to call it a night while we wait for autopsy results. Come on, I'll drive you home."

"Ok. Let me get my stuff." She stood, swaying a little, and he caught her waist.

"Sara? Did you eat anything tonight?"

"Just some chips and salsa at the club."

"We'll stop and get you something on the way."

Grissom followed her into the hall and down to the locker room where she collected her purse and jacket, before heading out to his car.

Neither noticed the strawberry blonde who'd been standing just outside the break-room. Catherine watched them walk away and thought of what she had heard. What did it mean?

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Nick knocked on the door with a determined rap.

"Who is it?" A thick Jersey accent called out.

"So, it's Nick. Open up." He waited until the door swung open. "I just wanted to check on you."

"I look like a damned raccoon and every joint in my body is sore, but other than that I'll be ok. How's Sara?" Sofia motioned him into her apartment.

"Fine. Fell asleep in the break-room. Grissom gave strict orders that she wasn't to be bothered."

"What's going on with those two?"

"What do you mean?" Nick loosened his shirt, glad he could finally relax. He loved being in Sofia's apartment. The warm, muted jewel tones suited her.

"It's obvious, Nicky. You should have seen him tonight by the ambulance. Touching her cheek. She actually told him that _people _were watching. As if they had something to hide."

"Really? I knew she had a thing for him when she first came to Las Vegas, but I thought for sure she was long past that."

"So she had a thing for Grissom _before _she moved to Vegas?"

"Grissom asked her to come to Vegas, I know that much. Come to think of it, no one really knows what the history was that they shared." Nick pulled her down after accepting the beer she held out to him. He tucked her against his side, nuzzling her neck. "You worried me tonight."

"Sorry. Who knew girls' night out could get so weird?" Sofia closed her eyes, breathed in his scent. "I'm glad you're here."

"Figured I could return the favor. You were the only one after my kidnapping who didn't treat me like a kid. I appreciated that, you know. And besides, you must have looked hot in that little skirt before it was ruined. Do you maybe have another?"

"I might, want to go see?"

Catherine sighed as she left her office, ready to head home. Her face throbbed, her feet hurt and all she wanted to do was sleep.

"Hey beautiful!" Jim called from behind her, taking her elbow. "How's the shiner?"

"How do you think, Jim? Damn thing throbs worse than—never mind. What're you up to?"

"Heading out to breakfast. Was lookin' for the bug-man but he must have lit out of here in a hurry."

"He took Sara home a few minutes ago." Catherine's brows lowered and she shook her head lightly.

"That figures."

"Jim? You know something I don't?" Catherine asked. "Something about Grissom and Sara?"

"What makes you ask that?" Jim picked at non-existent lint on his sleeve.

"Spill it, copper, you can't fool me."

"Wanna go get breakfast?" Jim leaned closer, "Think the bug man finally got his head out of the ant hill."

"You buyin'?" Catherine tapped him quickly on the shoulder.

"Don't I always, doll?"

Grissom parked his car in the guest space at Sara's apartment complex and killed the engine. The woman beside him slept on, not waking when he touched her shoulder. He leaned over and lightly brushed the uninjured corner of her mouth. She smiled in her sleep and lifted an uncoordinated hand somewhat in his direction.

"Griss?"

"Hmm, sweetheart?"

"What time is it? Are we home?" Her eyes opened and stared at him sleepily.

"Your place. How are you feeling?"

"Tired. You coming in?" She opened the car door and slid out and he could see she was still a little wobbly.

"If you want," He slammed his door shut and rounded the front of the car, wrapping a steadying arm around her waist. She stood nearly as tall as he, but was thin and delicate boned and he marveled at how fragile she felt. She was so full of life, thrumming with energy and fire that she gave a deceptive impression of strength. It was in times like this that he felt the most tenderness for her, felt needed. "I'll tuck you in."

"You tucking in with me?"

"If you insist."

"So spill." Catherine inhaled the aroma of Frank's special blend of coffee as Brass methodically sliced his pancakes into neat squares. "What do you know about Gil and Sara?"

"From the man himself. He has 'quietly' wised up, but is keeping it on the down-low because of departmental morons."

"Also known as Ecklie. When did all this start?"

"Not real sure. The man's been _fond _of her for years. But remember that case involving Dr. Lurie?"

"Sure do. Killed his younger girlfriend. She looked eerily like Sara. Griss took that one hard. You think they've been together since then? That was what two or three years ago?"

"No. I think that was the first step. Grissom's odd when it comes to women. Not as awkward as you might think, though. He had no trouble asking Terri Miller out, remember."

"So why has he been such an idiot with Sara?"

"Pure, unadulterated fear. Sara is important to Grissom and he is terrified of it. Plus her being so much younger than he—"

"Only seventeen years. Besides, Sara is unique. Who else would understand his obsession with bugs?"

"True," Brass's mouth twisted. "That is a bit strange."

"I thought Sara had gotten over her crush years ago. She was pretty in to that paramedic for a while."

"Man, that guy ate at Grissom's craw, let me tell you."

"Really? He acted like it didn't bother him at all."

"Grissom plays it close to his chest, remember."

"So when do you think they started sleeping together?" Catherine cut right to the chase.

"Not sure they are." Jim hedged. "Grissom's didn't come right out and say."

"I watched them tonight."

"And?"

"Dammit, I couldn't tell if they were or not."

"They're much more relaxed around each other lately—you notice that?"

"Matter of fact, I have. And, he seems to pair up with her nearly every night."

"And she sure did mope around during his sabbatical."

"Hmm." Jim sipped his own coffee. "That's something else I've noticed. Grissom tends to stick a little closer to her on scene. Not just working near her, but walking right beside her."

"And what about tonight? He ran right passed me practically. I didn't get a chance to watch what he did by the ambulance. I'll have to ask Sofia if she noticed anything off. You know—Grissom issued orders tonight that no one was to wake her up. She fell asleep in the break-room. He actually took files in there and worked while she slept."

"That's not like him. You know, we were in interrogation with that guy who knocked Sara to the floor and I thought Grissom was going to start swinging himself. He then volunteered to sit out on the other interviews."

"Something's up. Besides just casual dating, Jimmy."

"Certainly took them long enough."

"Curiosity is going to kill me."

"Surprised, Cat?"

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Grissom grabbed the buzzing phone and hit the answer button. "Grissom."

"Hey man. It's Warrick. We found Tara Dees on tape and found the table she was sitting at. Greg is processing now. We've also identified the people nearest her during the little altercation. Vega is bringing them in now. And Doc Robbins called, autopsy was delayed and he's getting ready to start. You want to be here?"

Grissom looked over at Sara, curled on her side, facing away from him. She'd barely moved in the two hours since he'd led her to her bed. She'd balled the two pillows up under head in the peculiar way she usually did when she was in a deep sleep. He knew it would be a long while before she woke. "Yeah. I'll be there in about forty minutes. Tell Doc to wait for me."

He hurried and dressed, penned a short note and placed it on the bedside table where she'd be sure to see it. He dropped a light kiss on her hair and left.

"Hot date?" Doc Robbins asked as Grissom finally entered the autopsy room, clad in a sterile smock and gloves. Warrick was already suited up and the Y incision had already been made.

"Something like that," Grissom said, nodding to Warrick. "Why do you ask?"

"Certainly took you long enough to get here?" Doc said. "Anyone I know?"

"You might. Now what can you tell me about our girl here?"

"Tara Dees. Thirty-two. Approximately five-five. Thin. Natural blonde. Cause of death, exanguation from knife would to the left ventricle. Quick, hard to notice. The only sign of any trauma."

"Anything else?" Grissom hated it when autopsy yielded little information.

"From the angle of entry I have to say our killer was around six foot, and most likely right-handed. Either he knew what he was doing or he got real lucky. Killed her with the one blow. Really can't tell you anything else. I did make a cast mark of the wound. Distinct pattern on the top of the blade, near the hilt. Etching or engraving. Match that and you'll have your murder weapon."

"Least that's something." Grissom and Warrick exited the morgue and stripped the smocks off. "Anything turn up at the club that might match the murder weapon?"

"Not that I've seen, but Greg is still sending stuff in. I'll head back out there now that we actually have something to look for. How's Sara and the girls?"

"Fine I guess. Nick said Sofia's nose was broken, Sara was groggy and her lip had to be stitched. Cath took the least of it. Oddly enough her only visible injury was a black eye—from Sara's elbow."

"Figures. Was Sara hitting back?" Warrick smiled, the irony not lost on him. "Hope she landed a few."

"I'm sure she did." Grissom recalled the swelling around Sara's knuckles that he'd noticed as she clutched her pillow earlier. "Hopefully DNA swabs Greg took of the brawlers will tell."

"Yeah. Listen, I'm gonna head out."

"Catch up with you later. Where's Nicky?"

"It's his day off."

"Call him in. I want this wrapped up before shift starts tonight. Cath and Sara can't work this case and will be short handed. Keep Greg, too."

"Will do. Will do."

Nick grabbed the cell phone out of his jeans pocket, flipping it open quickly so as not to wake the sleeping woman beside him. "Yo? This is Stokes."

"Nick, my man. Grissom says get your ass down here. We need to clear this mess up so the girls can get back in the field."

"Shit man, it's my day off."

"Least you've got a few hours of sleep. Greg and I are still in the field."

"What is it, Nicky?" Sofia murmured, close enough to Nick's phone for it to pick up her voice.

"Wow, buddy. You're not alone."

"No, man. I'm not. Tell Bug-man I'll be there shortly. Dammit." Nick closed his phone and rolled onto his back. Sofia snuggled onto his chest.

"They're pulling you back in?"

"Yep. Seems Grissom is really pushing this one." Nick hugged her closer, burying his face in her hair. "I can't say I blame him. I'd better get going."

"Yeah. I've got the next two days off. You're more than welcome to come back here when you're done."

"Count on it. Take it easy today, ok."

"So, who was she?" Warrick called as Nick entered the crime scene. "Anyone I know?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I'm not telling. So what the hell was so important you had to call me in on my day off?"

"We're looking for a specialty knife. It's the murder weapon."

"So did they book those idiots who started the brawl?"

"Brass finished up the interviews earlier."

"Not Grissom?"

"He sat in on one. I saw his face when he came out, bro. He was pissed."

"Must have been the one hasslin' Sara."

"What makes you think that?"

"Sofia said Grissom was mighty upset when he saw Sara being stitched up."

"Yeah. Can't say I didn't want to bust heads when I got a good look at her." Warrick scanned the gap between the stage and the floor with his flashlight, looking for the knife. "Bruised knuckles, swollen cheek, busted lip, plus who knows what else from being at the epicenter of a mob."

"She be ok?" Nick asked, guilty that he hadn't thought much about his friend. He'd been more concerned with Sofia.

"Yeah. She's tough, man."

"Not really. Sara's probably the most vulnerable woman in the lab, Rick. I'm surprised you've not seen that."

"Sara? What do you mean?"

"That toughness—it's all an act, I think. That woman has been hurt _bad."_

"I'll admit she's a little strange, but hell, all of us in this job have our problems."

"It's different with Sara. Come on, you've seen how she pulls away from us sometimes. How she really can't stand to be touched, or freaks when someone gets too much in her space. I mean, what exactly do we know about the woman?"

"Dammit, Nick. She's not a case, she's our friend."

"I know. Just sometimes I worry about her. Hate seeing her so alone all the time."

"True. Hey, I got this friend. Old school buddy, he recently transferred to the DA's office. Single, nice guy. Maybe Sara would like him?"

"Warrick—you acting as a matchmaker? I'm shocked. Best wait until Sara's face heals up before you call him. Maybe you and Yoko can double." Nick laughed, bagging a filthy pink scarf, completely discarding the conversation with Sofia concerning Sara and Grissom they'd had just a few hours earlier.

"Yeah. The question is—how we going to get Sara to agree?"

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Hour sixteen after the brawl and Grissom finally made it back to Sara's apartment, exhausted and irritated, after having ran home, picked up the dog and spare clothes. The engraved knife still hadn't been found, and the idiots involved in the brawl had been released pending bail. DNA, however, had proved that Sara, Sofia, and Catherine had all landed a few hits on the brawlers as well. Grissom's mouth quirked at that thought, imagining his three big bad ladies kicking ass.

Sara's apartment was still dark and Grissom ambled down the hallway and entered the bathroom, closing the door to keep the mutt out. He cleaned up, changed into the spare pajamas and then stood by the bed. The note he'd written earlier hadn't been touched and Sara herself seemed to have barely moved. Grissom figured it was probably due to the pain medication. In a way, he was glad she'd been given a sedative. The woman needed the rest. It concerned him, though, that the only way she'd stop to sleep was when she was forced to. Woman needed a keeper, fortunately he was finally up to the job.

He pulled the comforter out from under her, straightening it. She always kicked the covers off, burning hot while she slept. He slid in beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She hummed a little, snuggling her head on his shoulder. The dog settled at her feet, taking up nearly as much room as she. "Glad you're here."

"Me too."

Grissom grabbed the phone off the end table quickly, before the ringing could wake up the woman beside him. "Grissom."

"Gil? We've got another body. Same weapon as Tara Dees."

"I"ll be right there, Brass."

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

**__**

**_RULES FOR GIRL'S NIGHT OUT_**

NEVER GO ANYWHERE IN GROUPS LESS THAN THREE

NO MORE THAN ONE DANCE WITH ANY GUY PER NIGHT

ALWAYS ORDER FRESH DRINKS IF ALL LEAVE THE TABLE

NO MORE THAN 2 ALCOHOLIC DRINKS PER NIGHT

AT LEAST TWO PEOPLE AS DESIGNATED DRIVERS

MAKE SURE SOMEONE KNOWS WHERE YOU ARE AT ALL TIMES

NO LEAVING WITH ANYONE OTHER THAN THOSE YOU ARRIVED WITH

NO LAST NAMES TO STRANGERS

DON'T ACCEPT DRINKS FROM ANYONE OTHER THAN GROUP

CASH ONLY. NO CREDIT CARDS. NO CHECKS.


End file.
